The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The genealogist with field and fess
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum