Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
When masons clutch the breath we hold on loan
The Turks said just take anything you please
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
But I can understand you Brother Gog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum