1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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