1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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