1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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