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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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