1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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