1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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