1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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