1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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