Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
That suede ferments is not at all well known
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum