1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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