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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb