1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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