1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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