Eighty-Eight with Two to Spare

Perfect beauties, lined with gold,
Never would one believe how old.
Morbid skulls etched by hands,
Secured upon the neck with a silvered band.
Eighty-eight score, with two to spare.
First time in centuries they have tasted the air.
Poison lingers beneath the golden cap,
For men with riches in their eyes, a formidable trap.
Long and worn fingers close on a trinket,
Eight-eight score and one to spare, no one to think it.
Raucous men with riches in their eyes,
Never bother to even recognize.
Now near ten years later,
Eighty-eight score with two to spare,
All are replaced,
With no coins or lives to spare.