1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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