1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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