1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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