1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum