At five precisely out went La Marquise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
That suede ferments is not at all well known
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum