1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
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
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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