Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The understanding critic firstly sees
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum