1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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