1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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