1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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