1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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