1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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