1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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