Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum