1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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