Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum