The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
He bent right down and well what did he seize
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum