1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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