1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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