1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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