1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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