1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come