1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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