1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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