Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The understanding critic firstly sees
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum