1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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