1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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