1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb