1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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