1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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