Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb