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

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb