1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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