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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
← OPEN dataBase