1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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