1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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