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
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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