1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase