1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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