1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum