Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
With gravity at gravity's great cog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum