1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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