1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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