1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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