Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum