Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The genealogist with field and fess
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum