1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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