1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase