1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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