Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum