1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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