1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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