1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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