1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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