1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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