1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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