Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
And let you off from your opinions glum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum