1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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