Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
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
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum