1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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