Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum