1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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