1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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