Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
And let you off from your opinions glum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum