At five precisely out went La Marquise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
His toga rumpled high above his knees
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum