The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum