1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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