1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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