1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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