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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come