1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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