1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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