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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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