1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb