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
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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