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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum