1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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