1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum