Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
That suede ferments is not at all well known
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum