1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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