1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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