1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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