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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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