1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum