1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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