1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
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
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum