1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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