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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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