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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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