1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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