1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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