1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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