1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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