1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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