1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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