At five precisely out went La Marquise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
The understanding critic firstly sees
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum