1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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