1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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