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
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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