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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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