1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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