Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The genealogist with field and fess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
The best of all things to an end must come