Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The genealogist with field and fess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum