1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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