1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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