1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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