1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum