1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
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
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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