At five precisely out went La Marquise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum