1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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