1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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