1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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