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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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