1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
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
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb