Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
The understanding critic firstly sees
That suede ferments is not at all well known
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
They both are right not unformed smatterings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum