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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum