Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum