1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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