1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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