1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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