1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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