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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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