1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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