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
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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