1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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