Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
His toga rumpled high above his knees
That suede ferments is not at all well known
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum