Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum