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
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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