1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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