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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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