1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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