Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
That suede ferments is not at all well known
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The genealogist with field and fess
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum