1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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