1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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