Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The Turks said just take anything you please
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum