1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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