1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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