1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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