1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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