1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum