1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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