1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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