1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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