1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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