1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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