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
That suede ferments is not at all well known
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum