1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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