Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
When dried the terrapin can naught express
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum