At five precisely out went La Marquise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum