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
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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