1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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