Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum