1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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