Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The Turks said just take anything you please
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum