1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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