1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum