1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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