1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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