Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
The understanding critic firstly sees
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum