1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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