1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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