1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb