1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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