1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
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
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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