1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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