1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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