1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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