At five precisely out went La Marquise
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
The Turks said just take anything you please
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The genealogist with field and fess
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
And let you off from your opinions glum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum