1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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