1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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