At five o'clock he rests in his marquise

consuming tea and nibbling cream gateaux

the native driver's waiting in the breeze

across the hillocks comes a steady blow

So plain a plain's not what one often sees

as castles blaze and palaces burn low

a daring baron pockets th' abkaris

the fireman makes his mighty hoses flow

Milord has lisped from Malibar to Swat

at Chandrigar the peasant sniffs the pot

shame gives the colonel's brow a greasy sheen

Such ancestry is merely poppycock

the Indies have enough without that schlock

the shield of vair or or's but briefly seen