1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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