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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
← OPEN dataBase