1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum