1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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