1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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