1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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