1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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