1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum