1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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