The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
His toga rumpled high above his knees
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
It's one of many horrid happenings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb