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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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