Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
And let you off from your opinions glum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum