Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The genealogist with field and fess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum