1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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