Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The Turks said just take anything you please
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum