1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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