1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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