1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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