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
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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