1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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