Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?