1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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