Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The understanding critic firstly sees
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
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Soliloquies predict great things old chum