1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum