The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?