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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum