1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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