1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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