The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The Turks said just take anything you please
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum