1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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