1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase