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
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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