1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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