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
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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