1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum