1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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