1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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