1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum