Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The understanding critic firstly sees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum