1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the best of all things to an end must come