1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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