1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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