1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
← OPEN dataBase