1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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