1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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