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
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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