1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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