1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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