1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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