1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
← OPEN dataBase