1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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