1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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