1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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