1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum