1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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