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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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