1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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