The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
He bent right down and well what did he seize
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
And let you off from your opinions glum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb