1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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