The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum