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
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
And let you off from your opinions glum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum