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
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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