Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The genealogist with field and fess
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
And let you off from your opinions glum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum