1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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