1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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