1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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