1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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