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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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