At five precisely out went La Marquise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
When dried the terrapin can naught express
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum