1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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