1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
← OPEN dataBase