1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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