1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum