1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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