1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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