1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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