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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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