1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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