1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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