At five precisely out went La Marquise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The genealogist with field and fess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum