1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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