1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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