1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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