1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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