1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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