1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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