1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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