1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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