1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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