1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum