1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum