Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum