1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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