Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The understanding critic firstly sees
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
The best of all things to an end must come