1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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