Pointing Percy at the porcelain Peter proudly peeked,
Russell, in his robes; now rags, reticently reeked.
Peters pride and pristine passion permeated prudent pattern
Russell redundantly rustled, resting regally, retreats .

For now Peter was the perfect person,
Having harmonised the hurling Harriet Harmon,
By promising the puerile perp a pardon
So sung sweet, swansong; in sanctimonious sermon.

Wayward women, wise, would wonder,
Who what why would put asunder
Bleached blonde babes basking in blunder,
Thoughtless thespians, thinking thunder.

Peter the perfect presentable politician
Outwardly ostentatious, openly on a mission
Purifying paradise, against pervy permission
Magical mayhem; masking musical magician.