1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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