At five precisely out went La Marquise
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
The Turks said just take anything you please
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?