1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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