1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase