1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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