The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum