Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum