1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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