1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum