1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase