1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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