1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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