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
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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