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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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