1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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