1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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