1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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