1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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