Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The Turks said just take anything you please
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum