1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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