1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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