At five precisely out went La Marquise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Bard I adore your endless monologue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum