1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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