1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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