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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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