1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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