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
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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