Note: My thanks to ChicagoNow blogger Kerri Morris whose post "Kyrie Eleison: In the Catacombes de Paris" provided the inspiration for the following verse.
Under the streets of Gay Paree
The tourists trek through catacombs.
Neat stacks of bones are there to see
Whose owners once had better homes.
Their femurs cannot ever flee
Their crania are empty domes.
So let their bones a warning be:
In death we all are monochromes.