1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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