1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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