Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
That suede ferments is not at all well known
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum