Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum