1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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