1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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