The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum