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
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase