Dyou Ken Ted Mould

Ah, Ted! It has to be said,
The {? juicy truth's ?} beyond us.
Rain, shine, on Leopold Stein,
His ribs remain intact.
{? Hedderly Crup ?} is in my garden
Breaking wind! I beg your pardon!
Don't go breathing! Misery!
And don't you all agree?

No fears, the last ten good years,
Our statistics prove it,
That you'll pose on Erskine's nose;
It's you who sets the pace.
On the cold and frosty morning,
Stop and howl {? And ruse like warning: ?}
It's insulation for the nation.
That's the one for me!

No draft, 'cause that would be daft,
A feather acknowledges beauty.
And ball and chain that {? leaks on the pane ?}
Can only smash your nerves.
In the Highland Agencies
And with the best, it stands to please.
And no complaining whether it's raining.
Thanks to this {? tumultuous day! ?}