1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum