1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?