1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum