1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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