1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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