1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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