1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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