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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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