1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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