1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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