1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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