At five precisely out went La Marquise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The genealogist with field and fess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum