Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
It's one of many horrid happenings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
The genealogist with field and fess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum