1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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