Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
And let you off from your opinions glum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum