1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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