1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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