1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum