1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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