At five precisely out went La Marquise
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?