1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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