Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The Turks said just take anything you please
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
And let you off from your opinions glum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum