1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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