At five precisely out went La Marquise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum