1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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