Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
And let you off from your opinions glum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum