1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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