Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?