1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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