Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
The understanding critic firstly sees
That suede ferments is not at all well known
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum