1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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