1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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