At five precisely out went La Marquise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The genealogist with field and fess
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
The best of all things to an end must come