Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?