1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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