1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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