1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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