Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
It's one of many horrid happenings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
The best of all things to an end must come