1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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