1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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