1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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