Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
The Turks said just take anything you please
That suede ferments is not at all well known
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum