1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum