Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
And let you off from your opinions glum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum