1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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