1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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