1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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