1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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