Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
The understanding critic firstly sees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum