1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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