1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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