1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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