1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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