At five precisely out went La Marquise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
That suede ferments is not at all well known
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
The best of all things to an end must come