1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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