1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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