1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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