1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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