1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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