1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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