1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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