1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum