1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
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
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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