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
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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