1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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