1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum