1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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