Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
The understanding critic firstly sees
That suede ferments is not at all well known
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum