1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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