1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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