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
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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