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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
← OPEN dataBase