1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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