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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum