1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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