1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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