1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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