1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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