1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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