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
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
← OPEN dataBase