1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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