1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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