1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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