1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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