Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum