1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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