1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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