1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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