The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
It's one of many horrid happenings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
And let you off from your opinions glum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum