Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum