1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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