1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase