1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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