Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb