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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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