1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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