1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum