1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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