Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The Turks said just take anything you please
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum