1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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