1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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