1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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