1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum