1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
← OPEN dataBase