1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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