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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb