1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the best of all things to an end must come
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