1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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