1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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