1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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