The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?