1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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