1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
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
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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