1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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