1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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