1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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