1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
← OPEN dataBase