At five precisely out went La Marquise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The understanding critic firstly sees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb