Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
The Turks said just take anything you please
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb