1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum