1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
← OPEN dataBase