1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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