1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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