Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
He's gone to London how the echo rings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum