1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the best of all things to an end must come
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