1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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