1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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