1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase