1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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