1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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