1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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