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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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