1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
← OPEN dataBase