1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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