Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum