1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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