Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
He bent right down and well what did he seize
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum