Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
That suede ferments is not at all well known
They both are right not untamed mutterings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum