1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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