1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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