1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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