1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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