At five precisely out went La Marquise
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
The best of all things to an end must come