1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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