1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum