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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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