1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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