1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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