1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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