1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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