1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum