Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
The best of all things to an end must come