1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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