1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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