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
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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