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
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
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
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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