1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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