1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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