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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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