Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The Turks said just take anything you please
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?