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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb