1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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