1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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