1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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