At five precisely out went La Marquise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
That suede ferments is not at all well known
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum