1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum