1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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