1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase