1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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