Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
The understanding critic firstly sees
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The genealogist with field and fess
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum