1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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