At five precisely out went La Marquise
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum