1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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