The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum