Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The genealogist with field and fess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb