Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum