1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum