1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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