1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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