1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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