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
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
He's gone to London how the echo rings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum