Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The understanding critic firstly sees
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Soliloquies predict great things old chum