1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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