Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The understanding critic firstly sees
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum