1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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