Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Soliloquies predict great things old chum