1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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