At five precisely out went La Marquise
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum