1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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