1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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