The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
He's gone to London how the echo rings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum