1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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